


You Weigh Me Down

by Midnightshade02



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Eating Disorders, M/M, Panic Attacks, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-10 21:04:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8939272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnightshade02/pseuds/Midnightshade02
Summary: Down in the underground, as Sportacus crystal fails to detect mental problems with the same ease it has with physical ones, Robbie has a clear road to get his aversion to health to a whole new level, but allowing the monster to grow might be biting off way more than he can chew.Up in the air, the blue elf trains to be a selfless hero, innocently ignorant to the fact that one simply cannot save everyone.-Let's just say this is a littIe tale on LazyTown characters' humanity and flaws. It's gonna be kinda intense (and confusing) in the beginning, but I hope to explain everything on later chapters, so hang on.(This story is centered on eating disorders and it might be quite a trigger, sooo... read at your own risk, I guess.)





	1. Late Night Snack

Robbie looked at the piece of cake in front of him. 'Why, Robbie? Why in the world have you baked it?' He asked himself. Just like all the times, he didn't come with an answer, staring intensively to the delicacy instead. Should he eat it? I mean, it had been a while since his last meal, for sure he'd be forgiven. He looked from side to side, suddenly afraid someone would jump scare him. But no. No one was looking, so it was okay, right? His hands started shaking as he grabbed the fork from the counter and moved it closer to the frosting. Surely just one bite wouldn't hurt...

 **No.** He dropped the fork and swiftly brought his hand to his chest, terrified.

He knew he couldn't, lord knew he couldn't! Beads of sweat started forming on his forehead as his hands shook harder, his tummy furiously growling in protest. 'Cake! Cake! Cake!' it demanded, but his mind screamed "You cannot!" and so he simply couldn't. He couldn't because he knew that everyone would notice. Oh god, Sportacus would definitely notice. Robbie firmly grasped his counter, petrified at the thought. He could almost feel, could almost hear the elf's laughter the closer he got to the piece of cake. "You should put down the fork a bit" it pounded mockingly into his ears in a thick accent.

Robbie fell to the floor, his hands still grasping the counter, and screamed in what sounded more like a strangled whimper: "Mercy!", he pleaded, "Mercy on me!" Mercy, for he had read once that thin was not a sin, and so why did it haunt him in such a way? Why did it consume his mind to a point where it was happy to consume itself? Why did it create clones and ghosts of the blue elf to frighten him when he knew the first would never say such things?

He knew he wouldn't. He was sure!

But was he really? His fears erupted involuntarely in a trembling fit that started from the pit of his stomach and traveled all his frail body, shaking to the point where little drops of tears fell from its anxious sockets and the voices left his bones and circled his head, screaching:

"But he did! Oh he did!"

"Oh please!" he cried once more. "Mercy on me!"

Robbie let his head fall down, defeated. How many days had the spent without food so that he would give in to such madness? For it had to be madness, he knew. For only lunatics hear the living in their bones. Only the incurable maniacs taste death in their meals.  
But the voice came again, so close he could almost feel the little hairs of a mustache tickling his neck: 

"But what madness does it take to concede to every primal instinct?" It cooed. "Only the most civilized are able to renounce to their primitive nature. I thought that's what we've aways fought for. Was I wrong?" It mused "Are you too weak?".

So he kept his head down submissively, for it had done it. She had done it. She had sinked deep into him, searched into his bones and organs and scavengered the litter on his brain and heart until she found his cerulian achilles heel and took his form. Transformed into him, that menancing beast! Parasite or queen, she was now his ruler and he had no choice other than to be her slave.  


Robbie searched for his remaining fragments of sanity, mentally collecting each one of them. He still knew what time and space were. Still knew how to count and still remembered all the kid's names. Even though a losing battle, he supposed that with some concentration, he could still differ delusions from reality. He sighed. For a fraction of a moment, Robbie thought about killing himself, for his body hurt too much and his mind couldn't take anymore, but to die fat would be to waste all the effort that made him perish in the first place. No, he would get thin first and think about that later. So he stood up ignoring the pain in his knees, threw the disgusting piece of cake in the trash bin and plopped down on his bed, not bothering to change into his pajamas.

He fell asleep almost immediately, too exausted from the now regular panic attacks that happened everytime he debated if he should eat or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I'm definitely not someone who's having a bad time and projecting it on a kid's show universe.  
> On a serious note though, this is the first fanfiction I "publish", but I expect I can make it work. I hope you enjoyed it and, should you choose to continue following the story, that the upcoming chapters are satisfactory. Next chapter will be more focused on Sportacus.


	2. Chinese Water Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this character development chapter, Sportacus believes his crystal is broken and his inability to fix it makes him desperate.

Sportacus felt uncomfortable. 

For some days now, his crystal had been behaving in the oddest way. It started just like every other day, with Sportacus doing his morning workout routine until the incessant shining and beeping on his shirt signaled that Ziggy had got into trouble. With the utmost calm and professionalism, Sportacus was able to take the kid down from the tree he had climbed in order to get apples and return to the airship at a impressive time of only 8 minutes. The work was done.  


But something did not feel right.

At first, just a tiny tingle in his chest, Sportacus thought maybe he had scratched himself with a branch and moved to to a mirror to have a better look at it, but once he removed his shirt and brushed his fingers over his thorax, he felt the sensation go away. Odd. 'Maybe it was an ant?' he thought dismissively while turning his shirt inside out to inspect it.

'Apparently not...' he whispered after looking carefully into every fabric wrinkle.

Sportacus shrugged. For all he knew, he could just be out of breath. So he put his shirt back on and tried convincing himself it was all his imagination or maybe involuntary muscular spasming. It could be, he was sure. It was still morning and the sudden calling might have made him exert himself too much before he was properly warmed up. It could very well be it.  


Only it was not and Sportacus was finding himself more and more unable to deny it every passing day. One week after the incident, he was already 100% sure that it was about his crystal, but still completely oblivious on how to fix it. What was he even supposed to do, anyway? It was not like the crystal had come with a manual.

At night, the growing trembling would wake Sportacus as soon as every REM cycle ended, making him sit bolt upright in his bed in fear of something being on top of him. Three weeks after the first episode, now a steady tauntingly vibration, had Sportacus in a very unamused state. He felt very annoyed and unwilling to wear his uniform and as much as he tried not to think about it, the idea of angrily throwing the crystal on the ground had crossed his mind one or two times.  


He was terrified. For the fist time, the elf realized he could not fix everything and the thought drove him up the wall. Everything was changing! He couldn't even bear to wear the uniform in his airship anymore. 'I am simply not trained for that!' He whined, hopelessly, 'Not for this sort of situation!' And so, the usual problem callings had become a blessing to him. Oh, how he adored dealing with the little, simple, childish problems that were confided in him by those blessed kids. To play football? It was no problem at all! To help build a tree house? What an explendid idea! Had they asked, Sportacus would be willing to help build an entire ark with them. It would be fine, really. He knew exactly what to do and how to do it.

But the crystal? The crystal was a tiring mystery that appeared on his nightmares climbing his torso and squizzing his neck till he begged for clemency. He would scream in his sleep and wake up to the memory of beasts pressing dirty paws on his lungs and endlesly growling into his ear.  


'Stop!' He cried, jumping awake.

He looked at his surroundings, swearing he could still listen the beast snarling impatiently at him in the dark. 'Why don't you understand?' it sounded.  


"I don't know!" He cried loudly.

Filled with panic, he drew big shaky breaths that didn't quite calm or give him enough oxygen to function, his eyes turning frenzied and bloodshot. Sportacus was now answering the dark and he was convinced to be officially bordering on insanity. For it had to be insanity, he knew. For only a madman would hear danger in the wind. Only a mental felt chaos' weigh on his chest.  
The crystal remained undisturbed, shaking in his built-in closet and he had no idea how to deal with it. Despite the exercises, perfect diet and heavy efforts for a good sleeping schedule, the blue elf found himself haunted by invisible creatures and plaged by he constant reminder of failure. The cold wind caressed his burning face, whispering once again 'Why don't you understand...'.  


Sportacus couldn't breathe, couldn't sleep and **he couldn't understand.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you see, I feel like people don't care about Sportacus. I think they only use him as 'the psychological relief' (as in the one who cures everyone's traumas) and turn him into a shallow coadjuvant aaaand... I really don't like that. I want to portray Sportacus as, of course, a nice person (elf), but also someone who, in the role of hero, is packed with responsability, burned by the constant expectation to succeed and most importantly, entitled to fail.  
> So far, no interaction between our problematic protagonists, but it will happen.  
> I am sorry about the orthographic mistakes, english is not my mother language.
> 
> (For anyone wondering, chinese water torture is a form of torture where a person has water constantly and slowly dripping on their forehead until they go insane).


	3. Feel the Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus is trying his best to adapt to an imperfect life and and its defective tempo, but when two unstable souls colide in the eye of the storm, things can get dangerous.

Humanity was incredible. It was truly amazing how, despite the inhabitants' private adventures, a public space would always remain impersonal. Pixel could be involved in big hacking schemes, Ms. Busybody could realise she didn't especially care about the Mayor and Stepanhie could be having her first existential crisis while imagining that one day she'd be old like her uncle, much too old to move with her current grace. Or they could not. The point was that should hell break lose or heaven bless their individual life, it was fairly hard for others to find out, unless if told about it. Privacy was wonderful.

It was on that note that Lazy Town kept strong on it's feet as if nothing wrong was happening. A city did not have feelings and it did not fall apart. Symbolicaly at least, it did not. Sportacus watched mechanically as the children played in solid ground that would not move or crumble depending on anyone's feelings and let out a quick relieved sigh, for his anxiety was manageable as long as it didn't affect anyone. Since there hadn't been much trouble in Lazy Town for the last weeks, he allowed himself to spend a bit more time in the airship where he could give himself the luxury of not wearing his shirt and spending his free time with non stressful exercise. Still, he was constantly alert. The sleepless nights had taken its toll on him and he couldn't help but be afraid that the trembling would be loud and annoying to the point of missing someone in danger if he didn't pay enough attention. He felt not like a hero anymore but a ridiculous watchdog, supervising people's actions and listening to their talk as if it was his own business.  


Stephanie was particularly easy to watch. She was smart, affectionate and active in a sensible kind of way, meaning she probably wouldn't get into much trouble by herself. Yet, Sportacus automatically examined her chat with Trixie, who was also relatively prudent, despite slightly malicious in some ocasions.

'What was that, Stephanie?' He caught himself intruding on their conversation and bit his tongue. It's not like Sportacus was particularly interested on the topic. It was just that he desperately tried to focus himself at anything that took the tembling pace off his mind. He didn't have bad intentions! To listen was a passive act. To intrude, careless.  


Stephanie didn't seem to mind. "Oh, hey Sportacus! It's been a while since I saw you."

"Ah, yes!" Sportacus huffed and layed his hand on his head in mocked drama. "So much work in the airship! But it's good to be here." His kind smile returned instantly.  


Stephanie's gentle eyes beamed as a toothy smile crept up on her face. "It's great to have you here. Wanna play?"

"Yes!" Said the elf avidly. "Yes, let's play whatever you want!"  


The conversation was not important anymore as Sportacus held tight on the hope of bliss. Distraction was all he wanted and he would take anything given to him. So he waited patiently while Stephanie scratched her head in a pensive way debating to herself which would be the perfect sport for that beautiful summer day. After what felt like an eternity, her eyes cleared up and in a determined statement, she declared: Soccer!

Soccer indeed sounded perfect. The three ran all over the town looking for the other three boys so that they'd be able to form fair teams and, after a little delay caused by Stingy not wanting to share HIS ball, they were ready. In one side of the field, stood Stephanie and her team: Ziggy, Trixie, Stingy and their goalkeeper, Pixel. On the other side, Sportacus. It was a just partition, they all agreed.  


The game was a disaster. The children had fun and as always and Sportacus was easily able to win, but he still felt like it was a silent catastrophe. As he played, he found himself unable to concentrate. The vibration on his chest kept mismatching the pace of his heartbeat making him trip on his own feet and nearly fall in more than one ocasion. He felt lost and drowning in a sea of too many different rhythms. When the game ended, he realized to be three things: tired, eager to leave and ashamed of both. He took advantage the setting sun and bid farewell to the kids, advising them to get to their homes before it got too dark. Exhausted and desolate, he walked slowly through the streets of the city, only quickening his pace when the mayor found him and tried to start a conversation.

"I am so sorry, Mr Meanswell, but I'm in a hurry!" Sportacus said in a hasty manner, pretending to be late. "Someone needs my help on the other side of the town!"

"Oh god, is it grave?" The mayor cried in his quirky silly way.

"The most utter graveness, Mr. Meanswell! That person certainly needs me!"  


And so, always happy to cooperate with the hero, the mayor complied, his voice filled with a sense of responsability. "Then you must go, Sportacus! Good luck!"

"Yes sir, on my way!"

Sportacus masterfully did his signature gestures and ran as fast as he could, out to save his imaginary victim. He even added a flip for emphasis. The mayor was so proud.

Once he had crossed a corner though, Sportacus slowed his steps until he got back to the light walk he had started with. He was ashamed and annoyed and, oh, so scared. What would be of him if he couldn't take control back? How long should it take till he was uncapable of saving anyone? Probably not long, he assumed, looking at his feet. The quivering seemed to become stronger at every step and he was very close to admitting defeat. Sportacus had been walking with his head down, not really looking or caring about where he was going for some blocks and would probably have continued, had he not bumped into someone.  


Startled, Sportacus looked at the tall languish man he had run into.

"Oh, hi Robbie! Sorry I-" **And then it hit him.** He slowly touched the shaking crystal and stared intensively at Robbie. It was like an ephyphany. "You!" He exclaimed.  


"Yeah...?" Robbie looked down at the smaller elf, confused at the sudden silence. "Do...you need anything?"  


Sportacus eyes turned into two irritated slits. This was no coincidency. 'Of course', he thought, 'of course it was Robbie. That's why I haven't seen him in while.' "No, I don't." He spat.

It was definitely an interesting view, to see Sportacus talking that way. Unfortunately, Robbie was not amused at all by the random discourteousness. "Then what are you looking at, Sportacringe?"  


Our elf could feel his head boiling. How dared him! How dared him mess with his crystal of all things! He looked right into Robbie's eyes, unsure if waiting for a reason to calm down or to scream. But they were in public streets and that was no time or space for screaming. "Nothing. If you'd excuse me, I must get to my airship." And so, without waiting for the other to move, Sportacus stomped around him and went back on his way, one more time running.

Once he finally got to the airship, he imediately removed his shirt and threw it as far into the room as he could. He couldn't breathe, couldn't form a racional thought and, god, he just couldn't breathe at all! He sat on the floor and curled himself, hugging his legs. He had endured that brainwashing agony, worn himself to exaustion and turned into everything he was not for the sake of being a hero and helping the town, while Robbie played with his sanity in order to fulfill his petty wish of making him leave. How could he do this? He always knew Robbie was no best friend of him, but to put him into such pain just for a plan? It was far too much! How had him even gotten access to his crystal? Sportacus shook with flaming hot anger, something he hadn't felt in years, and his head trobbed with the strongest panic migraine he had ever had. Oh, he was furious! He should never had been so kind to that little, **that little...**

He spent several minutes trying to find the right curse to use, till somewhen, far too drained from all the struggle, he contented himself in leaving the matter alone and sleeping on the floor. He fell into melancholic dreams about distrust and lost hope to ever be able to fix his former most prized treasure. 

Luckily, perhaps, he wouldn't have to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I kinda took a while to write this one. Something bad happened and I just couldn't get myself to leave my bed and do anything productive. Looking on the bright side, I'll probably project it on the story so you can expect some angst to come. I know Sportacus sounds really different from what we're used to see, but I promise there will be moments of his usual kindness and light spirit.  
> (If you are wondering, yes, Sportacus thinks Robbie broke his crystal, and no, it never crossed his mind that the crystal could be trying to warn him that Robbie was in trouble. We'll get back to that later on so, as always, hang tight!)
> 
> Now, merry christmas everybody. I hope you enjoy my present and I'll see you all on the next chapter (which will be focused on Robbie).
> 
>  
> 
> **(PS: I have no idea of how to take of the note about the first chapter)**


	4. Hellbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone in his refuge, Robbie reflects over his past and present searching for answers to questions he wouldn't dare to ask out loud.

Robbie stared nonchalantly at the metalic ceiling of his lair. On the last night, he had slept for 16 hours straight and now could barely stand up, his legs too heavy and bones inexistent. With still blurred eyes, he tried to find his way on a misty path of persistent confusion and loose reality.

Robbie was trying to remember how it had all began. When he had done the first bad decision and why he had submitted himself to such a strain. It was his new favorite exercise, to sulk over unorganized memories.

Maybe it had been some months ago, when putting on his attire, he noticed his incredibly high pants to have a tiny rip, and as the very presentable villain he was, he just couldn't allow that indulgence to continue.

Maybe it had been when, as a child, he tried to grab one too many cookies from the jar and had to hear his mother sharply scream about how the boy just 'couldn't control himself to save his life!', and humiliated, decided to prove her wrong.

Maybe it was when, surrounded by cake slices, he realized himself to be a mediocre creator who gave more attention to sweets than to his inventions and, disgusted by his own averageness, swore to stop his addiction to food.

Either way, the reason probably didn't matter, he supposed. Because maybe it had always been there. Maybe he had just been born infected by the beast and needed only an awakening to show his true repulsive, obssessed,restrictive self. Or maybe - **and that thought scared him more than any ghost** \- there had never been a curse to begin with and he had just wasted years pitying himself for no reason.

He sighed. It probably wasn't even that bad. It wasn't like he had started running miles and lifting weight in order to lose, he was far too lazy for that! No, he had simply started eating less and less, which certainly couldn't have that much effect. Now that he thought about it, seeing how he still ate sometimes, his body had likely hardly even changed. If anything, he could have gained weight for all this time and just not noticed it, so blinded by self-pity. He glanced around his big open home and wondered if he should go look in the mirror or step on scale just to check, but the mere thought of leaving his bed made him nauseated.

And then there was Sportacus. Robbie wouldn't go as far as to blame the elf for his misery but he certainly had inspired some of his downfall. Always moving and trying to get the kids to be active, Sportacus got his message quite clear: he liked fit lean people and that was no secret. Another statement that was definitely not a secret was how Robbie hated it. Had Sportacus not been so bloody obssessed, maybe he wouldn't be either. But It wasn't his fault. It was never his fault, and Robbie knew it. The problem was that he felt in the back of his mind that, devoted as he was to good health, Sportacus would always notice everything about his body and so he had to be careful! Careful not to let himself go too much and risk hearing something from the elf that would scar him forever, because while no one manifested itself, the problem didn't necessarily exist. Robbie, who was by no means a fool, always had in mind that maybe his obsession was nothing more than what it's name hinted: a paranoid obsession. He was well aware that maybe he had never been fat and that everything was a sickly deep - _oh so desperadly deep_ \- exageration. The point was that maybe it was all in his head. But if someone noticed it, then it wasn't anymore. Then it was real.

And now he felt like everything was lost. Fully awake, he went over to the memory of somedays ago. The one when Sportacus had bumped into him and, visibly disgusted by his weight, had stared at him up and down as one does to a monster. 'You' the elf breathed, eyes glazed with shock. He had only the right to be shocked after not seeing the tall man in weeks only to find a shameful sack of grease in his place. Still, Robbie forced himself to maintain visual contact as shock turned into disappointment and soon enough, indifference. Watching Sportacus walk away had been such a frightening experience that Robbie felt uncertain if he'd ever want to return overground.

His whole body boiled, bubbles of fat prickling the inside of his face as the voices sizzled songs about his impurity. He could feel her poking his head. His eyes searched in white turmoil and panic for an answer that he simply couldn't find. He would have predicted such cruel action coming from those petty kids, way too young and shallow to realize what they were doing, but he had always painted Sportacus as a temple of naivety and kindness and if he, who always thought himself an extremely wise man, hadn't been able to see that blow coming, than he had lost control of everything and that was utterly not allowed. So he shakely, but surely got off his bed ignoring the queasiness and marched to his fridge. Disciplined eyes scanned his threatening cake and in one swift move of his arm, he threw it whole in the trash bin. Not satisfied, he eyed the remaining contents of the fridge, intolerant to all calories. He threw the eggs, the butter and the cart of spoiling milk because nothing could stay or he would be tempted. Never in his life he had imagined himself to be tempted by spoiled milk, but who was he trying to fool? It was possible. It was always possible to a glutton like him. 

So he threw it all, closed the bin and disposed of it with such speed and fear one could think it held radioactive waste. But it wasn't enough. His body still boiled in shame, burning like the dead carcass of a chicken in the oven. His soul dripped oil and he could almost smell it. Could almost see the trail it left on the floor.

He went on his quest to find anything in the house. He didn't remember anymore, but he could have left some crumbles of cake in his working table a week ago. It was possible that some fries still stayed in the bathroom floor days after he had puked them. There were so many possibilities of sin tainting his house it was nearly asphyxiating. 'Everything had to go!' He screamed internaly. And yet he saw nothing. He rummaged through every little nook of his industrial house until his weak legs finally gave out and left him on the floor. Nothing.

'We warned you!' The voices jabbed his brain. 'We did!'

His poor mind was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. How have you been? Things are not going too well for me so I ended up taking a while to write this one, but at least it is finally here. So, in this chapter we see that major communication issues between our protagonists are causing serious problems for them both. Poor boys...  
> Anyway, I was wondering... If you were to choose a song to illustrate Robbie and Sportacus' interaction in this story, which one would it be? Some might have noticed it from the chapter title, but my choice would be Demons by Imagine Dragons.
> 
> Next chapter will hopefully be focused on the two characters, so I'll see you all there! (If I don't post it in time, I hope you all have a happy new year!)


	5. Everybody's a Critic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus lives a life fully dedicated to others, keeping the hero shape and maintaining himself available full time for everyone's problems. He should have predicted how selflessness can easily turn into insecurity.  
> But he did not.

It happened on the following day of Sportacus and Robbie's encounter and, after a whole night of supervising the crystal in order to find out how it worked, he was at least sure that the tembling had slowed to the pace it had two days ago. He now sustained absolute certainty that Robbie had a role in the malfunctioning and although not irate anymore, he realized to have a bad taste lingering in his mouth everytime he thought about the other man.

It was frustrating; disheartening, really. He had never thought he'd come to genuinely dislike someone, especially not someone who he saw more or less on a daily basis, but there he was. The simple act of remembering his arrogant expression turned the elf's usually calm face into a unconcious scowl and sometimes he found himself on the verge of calling Robbie some very bad things. The worst part was that none of it felt good. He could call him all the little amount of insults he knew as many times as he wanted and that wouldn't make him any less irritated. It was a terrible condition, far past discomfort and much worse than anger. Sportacus felt hurt.

Yet, through the course of the week, Sportacus tried to convince himself to focus on his main activities and leave Robbie out of his mind, for he knew to dwell on the subject wouldn't do him any good and the kids were starting to notice his inattentiveness, but it was like quicksand. The more he struggled and squirmed to get out of that loop, the harder he got stuck in it. Sportacus tried to force himself stop thinking about the quivering but what power did he have? It was all like acknowledging your own breathing and then trying to just not do so. It simply couldn't work.

And much like a man drowning in quicksand, he felt the world hovering over him. All it took was one slip. One pitiful slip and suddenly he could do nothing for himself anymore. He knew it was happening, knew how the play worked. The next act had only to be him pathetically tapdancing over his mistakes, a secondary character unable to help anyone. He heard the crowd cheering as the beast hopped on his back and scratched his soul, too menancing to shake off and oh so heavy to lift.

Sportacus carried the weight of the world inside a big baloon.

He was scared. Despite Robbie incessant plans, never in his stay in lazytown he felt truly antagonized, but now as his crystal slowly turned into a clock bomb, Sportacus felt himself swimming a pool of blood where Robbie was a shark. The elf felt the stench of failure deep in his nose and he couldn't seem to stop the images of inevitable defeat from appearing on his head. The beasts continuously growled behind his ear, announcing threat in the air. It was not only about his job anymore. For god, he was not safe! He had demons surrounding him from every angle. 

He sat on the floor of his airship and looked at the passing clouds, his crystal and shirt kept away in the inbuilt closet in order to ensure his sanity. After weeks of continuous anxiety, he had grown used to the feeling, assuming the unpleasant sense of composure of those who are too exausted to be nervous. He wasn't quite sure anymore if _'why Robbie would do such a thing'_ was the right question to ask. Robbie was a self proclaimed villain who spent half of his time plotting against him and maybe it was time to accept that.

Sportacus came to an unfamiliar concept.

Maybe it was time to accept that not everybody in LazyTown was children, much less interested into playing make belief. He felt a chill going through his spine. It's not like he was an imature person, mind you. In fact, Sportacus considered himself to be a very serious man, always dealing with every issue with very high compromise. Still, his first time facing absolute sobriety on humanity and it had to be with a person who apparently hated his presence to the point of going any lenghts to make him leave. The frown came back to his face. He settled with _'how dare you, Robbie?'_

And yet, thinking about it wouldn't do any good. Sportacus had built an entire life based on the complete awareness of what he could and could not do and he was forever proud of it. He chose to save people, chose to not to depend on super powers and chose every day to stay healthy. He always did what he could do and what he could do had always been enough because he had chosen things right and because, he supposed, he had been gifted with a bit of luck over the last years. Lazytown had been a small town full of darling people and their significant, but more or less ordinary problems which, with some effort, kindness and gimnastics, he could trust himself to fix. And he fixed them all with grace and a smile on his face because he had the privilege to live giving all he had and receiving all he could. He was definitely not one to starve.

Now, destiny presented to him a complication he should be able to, but simply could not repair: his own crystal, key to all he stood for and undoubtfully a part of himself. It was comical. There stood the elf shooting in the dark for cheap theories and solutions for a problem too much shaped like himself to be ignored, and yet, avoiding it masterfully. The crowd laughed and it was tragic.

Another cold chill went through his spine and he involuntarily shivered. Everything was awfully shameful and scary and he vowed to have none of that. It was crucial to act before people had the chance to see him, not quite Sportacus anymore but an inept deterioration of the once confident hero, or else...-He stopped for a moment, afraid to think too hard, _too loud_ about the possibility and turn it into reality. But it was there and he couldn't help it. There was no shield strong enough to protect him from the inevitable conclusion. 

'...or else they'll give up on me.' He at last breathed in a silent whisper. 

He had to get to the bottom of that crisis.

**He had to confront Robbie Rotten.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Sportacus, you're doing it all wrong! The further you move away from the crystal, the more difficult it gets for you to realise that maybe Robbie has a problem!  
> ...Well, Sportacus has a problem too so I can't really blame him.
> 
> Hello and long time no see! I'm so sorry for taking so long to upload this terribly short chapter, but I don't know... There's something wrong with my mind and it's getting worse ( **drama queen** ). Anyway, how are you all doing? I promise to upload the next chapter sooner where we'll finally have some real interaction between the two protagonists... At least I think we will.


End file.
